


Belly Rubs are for Good Boys (Back Rubs are for Darcy Lewis)

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Back rubs, F/M, GUYS THEY KISS, Kissing, Tony cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: Talk to me!” She calls out, too loud in the small space. “I haven’t spoken to anyone other than forty-something billionaires in days.”Tony smiled behind the Starkpad, feels only a little foolish for it. “I’m a forty-something billionaire.”Emerging from the bathroom in a truly stunning sapphire blue dress, hair pulled back into a smooth, tidy ponytail, Darcy waves a hand at him. “Yeah but you’re not a gross old man pushing for a video-call just to look at my tits.”“Geeze. When did I get so boring?” Toy asks, grabbing up his sandwich. “Although. Play your cards right, you might get a sugar daddy out of this.”“But Tony, don’t I already have one?” She bats her eyes theatrically, before leaning down to pull a purse from a drawer.





	Belly Rubs are for Good Boys (Back Rubs are for Darcy Lewis)

**Author's Note:**

> KISSIN' but not like you want. 
> 
> Also feels.

 

The donations from the board members had finally began to come through, and Tony  _ knew  _ Darcy was up to her tits in requisition dossiers and financial accounts. When she’d had lunch sent to the labs for the fourth day in a row, and the only time Tony had caught a glimpse of her face was through the holoscreen, he’d decided, of his own free will and violation, to leave the labs. 

 

Her office is across the hall from Peppers, with a small lobby in between that homes two desks filled with unfamiliar faces.  They both flush and flutter when they see Tony like they’re not sitting in a gigantic building with his name on it. They’re secretaries-  _ ahem _ , assistants - and Tony can’t help the smirk on his face as he takes in the  _ pair _ of them.  Pepper got Darcy  _ two _ assistants.  Which, Tony’s gonna be real, is like having half a Darcy. 

 

The assistants look at each other helplessly as he approaches, paper bag tucked into the curve of his arm. “Ladies.” He grins. “Boss in?” 

 

“....she doesn’t want to be disturbed.” The one on the left says, uneasily.  Like she doesn’t want to tell Tony no, but is tentatively more afraid of Darcy.  It makes Tony smile. 

 

“Ah, well. Shoes on the other foot now, isn’t it?” He tugs the Starpad out of the nearest ones limp hands and pulls up Darcy’s itinerary for the day.  Nothing important until the evening. “Hold all her calls for the next two hours, okay?” The amount of times Darcy has forced Tony away from work and held his hand through distracting but necessary personal upkeep (food, showers, clean underwear) cannot be counted.  “Pray for me ladies, I’m going in.” 

 

Darcy doesn’t look up at him right away, and so Tony gets to  _ look _ .  Really look.  She’s wearing a rumpled looking sweater, well fitted and grass green (she wears green because it makes Bruce smile, even now, even months after their break up) with a coffee stain on the left side of the neckline. She’s hunched over her desk, laptop pushed to one side, Starkpad to the other, with her tits taking up a majority of the middle like she just can’t hold herself up anymore.  She squints at the lap top, and scrubs a hand over her face. Tony clears his throat. 

 

He rarely sees her startled. Darcy always seems prepared for anything. But today, she blinks up at him surprised, like she can’t figure out if he’s really there. “Tony? Did I forget to send lunch up?” 

 

A helpless sort of fluttery feeling settles itself into his stomach as he closes the door behind him. “No,” he tells her easily, dropping down in the chair opposite her of the desk. “I just thought I’d come eat with you.” 

 

“I don’t think I’ve left my office in four days.” She has a far away look, like she can’t remember what fresh air smells like. “I sent Catherin to pick up clothes from my apartment for my meeting with the lawyers later. I needed a woman to pick out my underwear, Tony. I’m not sure I’m fit for this kind of authority.” She pauses, eyes sliding to the bathroom. “I haven’t even put them on. They’re still on the counter.” 

  
“When Pepper worked as my assistant,” Tony remembers fondly, unpacking their lunch from the bag. “She’d just send her assistant over to this boutique she favored and then charge her employee expense account.  To be honest, I’m not sure Pepper has ever paid for her own clothing.” 

 

Darcy picks off all the tomato from her half of the sandwich and drops it on his deli paper. “I’m not sure I could trust either of them to dress me. They don’t have any tits, Tony. They don't understand.” She pauses, ferreting out another tomato with a look of absolute disgust. “Lacy is competent as all get out, but Catherine’s kind of mess.” She sighs on another smile, looking a little wistful. “It’s why I picked her. She’s overwhelmed if you ask her to do anything more difficult than answering the phone, but she’s  _ relieved _ if you ask her to go pick up coffee or dry cleaning. Plus she’s only twenty, and I needed  _ someone _ younger than me.  I think she’s actually my assistant’s assistant.”

 

“What are you up too?” He juts his chin toward the laptop, and leans back in the chair, feet propped on the corner of the desk. 

 

“Project accounts,” Darcy explains, tapping the Starkpad and throwing up the holoscreen. “I’m just separating projects for acquisition; breaking them up into categories, how far along they are, expected projects, necessary patents, team resources, that kind of stuff. Easier to account for that way; we can see which ones are balancing better, which need more funding, which need to be scrapped. That sort of thing.” 

 

Tony holds out a hand, and wiggles his fingers. “Gimme. I can do that. You can eat and go freshen up or whatever.” Darcy doesn’t hand him the Starkpad, and so Tony wiggles his fingers again. “Come on, Darce.” 

 

“You don’t like to be handed things,” Darcy argues, picking up the Starkpad and holding it to her chest. “Plus, this is my job. I can’t--- You shouldn’t be doing my job.” 

 

“I’m head of Research and Development. This stuff is actually  _ my _ job. Plus, I’ve been going through all current and projected planning. I can get through it faster without having to cross reference the data.” He shakes his hand at her, more demanding. “You realize you can give Department Heads work, right? I mean I assume you know this, since you like bossing me around.  This is actually part of my job, no one’s gonna judge you for having me do it. Pepper will probably be impressed.” 

 

She stares at him for a long moment, before sliding the Starkpad over. They work in easy silence, her at the holoscreens, and he with the Starkpad. She’s already made impressive headway in reorganizing the accounts, and he’s sure it took forever without the embedded knowledge of current projects, but Tony’s had his fingers in all the pots for a while now and he finds the work easy, if not a little mind-numbing. An hour in, when she’s hunching over a little more, so her chest is actually  _ resting  _ on the desk like it’s a shelf, Tony calls it. “Why don’t you go wash up and get changed.” 

 

“This is just a ploy to tell me I smell gross, isn’t it?” 

 

“To the whore-baths for you.” Tony points to the ensuite bathroom which no longer included a shower. It  _ had _ , when this had been Tony’s office. But Pepper had it removed on grounds that she wanted a reason to leave. “If you don’t have half a sandwich worth of crumbs in your cleavage, I’d be surprised.” 

 

“Can’t I get a shower in here?” Darcy calls, peeking her head out of the bathroom.  Tony had to remind himself he’d already seen her in many states of undress and the bare patch of shoulder beneath her hair was  _ not  _ shocking. 

 

“Mother Potts says no.” 

 

Darcy huffs, disappearing back into the bathroom. She left the door open, and Tony supposed that was fair. They’d seen  _ each other  _ in various states of undress. Friend zone, he reminded himself, stabbing viciously at the Starkpad as he moved accounts around into some semblance of organization. 

 

The rush of water running seemed strangely loud in the quiet of the office, and Tony couldn’t help but listen to her. The shift of her body, the scratch of cloth against cloth, the little tiny splash and huff as she washed her face. “Talk to me!” She calls out, too loud in the small space. “I haven’t spoken to anyone other than forty-something billionaires in days.” 

 

Tony smiled behind the Starkpad, feels only a little foolish for it. “I’m a forty-something billionaire.” 

 

Emerging from the bathroom in a truly  _ stunning  _ sapphire blue dress, hair pulled back into a smooth, tidy ponytail, Darcy waves a hand at him. “Yeah but you’re not a gross old man pushing for a video-call just to look at my tits.” 

 

“Geeze. When did I get so boring?” Toy asks, grabbing up his sandwich. “Although. Play your cards right, you might get a sugar daddy out of this.” 

 

“But Tony, don’t I already have one?” She bats her eyes theatrically, before leaning down to pull a purse from a drawer.

 

He watches her queue up the camera on her lap top and throw a holoscreen above it to reflect herself. “Are you doing your makeup with million dollar military grade Stark Tech?” 

 

“Yeah.” She wings her eyeliner with the same steady hand surgeons use to remove organs, and honestly, Tony’s kind of...fascinated by the process. “Think you can make me a military grade eyeliner? This shit is like 28$ and  _ still  _ rubs 

 

“I’ll look into it,” he agrees easily enough, watching her smooth that a rosey pink lipstick across her mouth. It’s kind of doing it for him, but the a lot of things about Darcy do it for him.  _ Weirdest porn ever.   _

 

She drops the screens, and rolls her shoulders with a wince. She’s still resting against the desk, and Tony has a new appreciation for her tits that doesn’t include wanting to bury his face or anything else in.  They  _ hurt  _ her. 

 

Pushing up from the chair, he rounds the desk as she watches with a small, bemused smile. “Here, let me just---” Digging his thumbs into the meat of her neck, he grins when she groans. “Turn in your chair a little bit. Sit up a little straighter though.” 

 

“I will do anything if you do not stop.” She pushes herself up, turning and straightening so Tony can reach both shoulders.  From this angle, he can see down her dress. 

 

“I can see down your dress.” Something about Darcy compels him to honesty. Tony doesn't fully understand it.

 

“Nothing you’ve never seen before.” Oh right. That’s probably why. Darcy doesn’t care. Darcy knows him, and Darcy doesn’t  _ care _ . If anything, she’s been known to fucking facilitate his more ambiguous whims. He presses down her back, along her spine, feels the knots between her shoulder blades and works them with the heel of his hands.  “Fuck yes. Right there.  _ Harder _ .” Her fingers scratch against the desk and her back arches as she pushes against him and Tony’s not sure he’s ever spent more time hard around a single person in his  _ life _ . “Jesus,  _ Tony _ . Fuck.” 

 

He’s probably a bad man. Scratch that. He absolutely  _ is _ . (He knows what she sounds like when she’s being fucked across a floor, and it sounds a lot like this). Because he wants to hear more. Clearing his throat, he pulls his hands away and marvels at the little sound of distress that escapes her. “If you uh....If you stand. I can do your lower back.” 

 

She’s up before he can even move, sending the computer chair rolling back until it  _ clinks  _ against the panoramic windows. She braces herself, palms against the edge of the desk and spreads her legs to balance her stance, and subsequently making her dress inch up her legs. Looking over her shoulder, back arched into a perfect curve, there’s no guile in her voice. “Like this?” It might be the most innocent he’s ever heard her sound, like she honestly doesn’t know what she’s doing him. If anything, that does it for him even  _ more _ . 

 

It takes him a moment to get his synapses firing right, too stunned by the image of her half bent over his desk (it  _ was  _ his desk, once upon a time, this was his office, his company), hair spilled over her shoulder, ass out, and the---the fucking heels. They’re blue, they match the dress perfectly, Tony stares at them for too long before managing a quick, sharp, “ _ Yeah _ .” 

 

There’s tension in her lower back, and Tony focuses on that instead of the way her ass looks like a fucking  _ heart _ pushes out, inches away from his dick. It doesn’t help that she’s pushing against his hands, doesn't help that every push makes her back curve a little more.  It looks like sex. It looks like she’s grinding on his dick, looks like she’s pushing back against his every thrust, it’s so easy to goddamn imagine. Tony’s a masochist, but he likes it. He’s had actual sex with less involved partners. She’s not quiet. He works little grunts, little quiet moans with every push and slide of his hand. She says his name, swears, huffs like he’s almost hitting it, but not--- not--- _ quite _ .

 

He curls a hand over her shoulder to hold her in place, just like he might have if they were really fucking, and uses the other to drive his thumb against a particularly hard not just below her ribcage. It shocks a sharp, shuddering little cry and Dear God, he’s going to come _ in his pants.  _

 

“Fuck! Tony! Do it---” 

 

The door swings open. 

 

“ _ Harder _ .” 

 

Tony has actually been caught fucking people he shouldn’t be fucking by assistants more important than which ever one is standing in the doorway with wide, incredulous eyes. Pepper.  _ Pepper  _ had caught him fucking a number of people he shouldn’t have, in this very office.  So Tony shouldn’t be so goddamn surprised. But he is. Because this is Darcy. And also they aren’t actually fucking. 

 

Darcy who drops to her elbows on the desk, and props her head in her chin like Tony doesn't have both his hands on her hips now. Like she wasn’t just crying for him to give it to her harder. Like it doesn’t look like they’re fucking, dress hiked high on her thighs. “Yes, Catherine?” 

 

Catherine stares for a long moment, face turning an alarming shade of red. “I...don’t remember why I came in here.” 

 

“You should probably leave until you figure it out then,huh?” 

 

“Right.” She doesn’t leave. She stares. “Um.” 

 

“Close the door,” Darcy says sweetly. “And maybe knock next time.”

 

“Right.” Catherine doesn’t move for a long moment, but when she does, she manages to walk right into the door frame. “Fuck. Shit. Right. Sorry. I’ll just--  _ Fuck _ .”  She locks the door before pulling it closed, so Tony’s gonna give her points for that.

 

Darcy rests her head on the desk and her shoulders begin to shake. “Are you  _ laughing _ ?” 

 

She is. She’s all but cackling, as she sinks out of his hands and into an untidy sprawl on the floor. She tugs on Tony’s pant leg, seems to not notice his raging fucking hard on, until he slips to the floor beside her. “Holy shit. I’m really glad I didn’t fuck her when I had the chance.” 

 

Tony’s dick twitches. Sue him. “That was uh...That was on the table?” 

 

“On the desk, actually.” She winks at him, face flushed and bright. “But I didn’t think it would set a good president, so I made the very, very professional decision to not sit on her face.”

 

“You know if this makes it to the tabloids, you’ll have to fire her.” Tony’s already imagining the fucking call he’s going to get from Pepper. 

 

“Papers’ already think we’re fucking,” Darcy reasons, fixing her hair. “Plus, she won’t tell. Pepper had her sign more NDA than I me when I started and all Cat does is get me coffee and pick up my underwear.” She rolls her shoulders, but doesn’t wince. “Christ. I feel  _ phenomenal _ . You are really good at that.” 

 

Never let it be said he isn’t good with his hands. “Chicks dig it.” 

 

“Chicks do,” Darcy agrees. “Do you do feet?”

 

Tony’s pretty sure he’d  _ fuck  _ her feet if she wanted him too and it’s never been his kink. He doesn’t say that. Doesn’t say anything at all, as he gathers both her feet into his lap and peels off her goddamn heels. Her toes are painted gold. Tony pinches the pinky, before moving the high arches. 

 

Darcy sighs, and leans back against the desk. “Why don’t you date?” She asks, apropos of nothing. 

 

When he doesn’t answer right away, she wiggles her foot, going to far as to dig her toes into the soft part of his stomach, tickling. “I’m not sure I’m really the dating type.” 

 

“You dated Pepper,” she reasons, relaxing even more with every push of his thumb. Her thighs spread, dress hitching higher again,and God but he wants to  _ bite  _ her thighs. 

 

“I wasn’t very good at it.” As much as he loved Pepper, dating her had been a Goddamn  _ trial _ .  The things she wanted...they were perfectly normal things. The three story colonial with the white picket fence.  Picking out paint colors. Sleeping in the same bed, at the same time, every single night. Going to dinner, instead of club hopping. Monogamy. Marriage. Some sort of labradoodle. Meeting her parents. Not being Iron Man. Normal things. Perfectly normal things that she was willing to sacrifice or  _ skew  _ for him.  It wasn’t fair. Pepper deserved everything she wanted in life, and it was never Tony, no matter how she tried to make it work. Because she tried. He didn’t. Not really. Not very hard. “We wanted different things. I couldn’t...I don’t want to do what my dad did to my mom. But...” It comes out quietly, a soft little secret he’s barely admitted to himself. “But I’m not... I don’t have a  _ job _ . I have a life. And I don’t want to give it up.” 

 

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.” 

 

But Tony  _ has _ .  Because Darcy doesn’t want white picket fences, or weird mutated dogs, or regular sleep schedules. She’d never ask him to stop being Iron Man, or even Tony Stark TM  Darcy wants club hopping and whiskey for breakfast. She wants to make US weekly front cover, she wants to walk around his lab half naked. She wants, or at least at one point thought it was a good idea, to share hookers. She wants to internationally bar crawl. She wants to flirt with his friends, and hit on the staff.  Pepper said it once; Darcy is lady-him and Tony thinks...He doesn’t want to change for anyone.  Doesn’t want anyone to change for him.  So yeah. Tony knows he’s met the right girl. 

 

She’s a barely legal, under educated, college dropout SHIELD grunt with a penchant for older men and reckless behavior who is without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to him.  

 

He just doesn’t know how to make her see what he sees. 

 

When their two hours are up, Darcy walks him to the door with a wicked little smirk he has long since learned means trouble.   Both Catherine and Lacy are present, staring steadfastly at their holo screens and not at Darcy or Tony. 

 

“Thanks for bringing me lunch,” she tells him, leaning against the door frame. “And...everything else.” 

 

Tony shoots her a curious look, arching an eyebrow. “Anytime.” 

 

_ Go with it _ , she mouths, that devilish grin too good to ignore. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

 

He thinks that’s it. That’s his queue to leave. And so he turns, only to find her hand pulling at the lapel of his jacket and yanking him forward. He’s not sure what’s happening until it’s happening but yep. Yup. They’re  _ kissing _ . 

 

And not like... Chaste kissing. Darcy has her tongue in his mouth and Tony doesn’t think anything of putting his hands in her hair. He realizes, a minute too late, that this is just for show. That this is just Darcy messing with the assistants but it’s too late to pull his punches.  He’s already backed her against the door. He’s already in it to win it.

 

She’s not moving in for a close though, so it’s Tony who ends it. Reluctantly and with great regret but she’s one little wriggle away from discovering how much Tony’s  _ not  _ acting and there’s only so much a man's balls can take. 

 

She’s a little glassy eyed, when he pulls away, like she hadn’t expected Tony to  _ go with it  _ quite so well. “Right,” she says, a little dazed. “Right. Thank you.”

 

He winks, and makes a show of fixing her hair, and her dress. Wiping the smear of lipstick off her chin. He can’t imagine what his own mouth must look like. “Anytime.” 

**Author's Note:**

> listen I said this was gonna be a slow burn. 
> 
> but I think this might be the moment Darcy realizes Tony is all the sex.


End file.
